This story is dedicated with affection to Leslita author Jeneee... for years of participation at this site and a treasure trove of superb, sexy stories. She's a fine writer who just keeps getting better.

An additional "Thank ya" to my friends Lucky Lesbian and Karen Cypher, who read this story and made valuable suggestions. I didn't use all of their ideas, though -- so if something about this story irritates you, it's definitely NOT their fault.

I've never liked the title "Spanking Mom," but couldn't think of anything better. Suggestions for a replacement are welcome.

Thanks for reading this story.

*****

I was fifteen years old when my father was killed in a car crash. Losing him was a horrible experience for me, but it was much worse for my mother Sarah -- she was utterly devastated. Even after a year and a half, she was unable to overcome the grief and put her life back together. My name is Julia, and I am her only child.

Watching my mother suffer was breaking my heart. Before Dad's accident, she was a sexy, vivacious woman of thirty-five with long red hair, a delicate and beautiful face with adorable dimples when she smiled. She was a dance instructor, which kept her body lithe and fit. Now, she was a shadow of her old self, shambling like a lost soul through life.

Eventually, I decided that I had to do something, and chose to have a heart to heart talk with her. One night after a glum, mostly silent dinner, I brought my mother into the living room and sat her down.

Kneeling before her, I took both her hands and said, "Mom, you've been mourning Dad for way too long. I miss him too, but he's been gone for almost two years! You've got to start living your life again. Don't you think he would have wanted it that way?"

I was stunned. How could it possibly be her fault? "Mom, that's ridiculous. It was an accident... an accident, that's all."

"No, baby. If it hadn't been for me, Bill wouldn't have been in that accident in the first place," she whispered.

I stared at my mother in perfect incomprehension. "What -- Mom, what in God's name are you talking about?"

She sighed, staring down at her hands. "On the day he died, right before he was going to work, I picked a fight with him. It was about something utterly moronic, too... I was just in a crappy mood, and took it out on your father. We... we yelled and screamed at each other for nearly a hour. Finally, he stormed out. But by then, he was running late, and -- and he drove faster then he should have... the police told me later that, if he hadn't been driving s-so fast when the tire blew, he wouldn't have gone spinning off the embankment, the way he d-did." She gave a sob of utter misery, tears streaming down her face.

I came over, sat next to her and gave her a hug. "Oh Mom, it wasn't your fault," I said, tears welling up in my own eyes.

"Oh, God, I feel so horrible. I wish it had b-been me instead," she said as she broke down and wept.

I tried to soothe her, but she wasn't having it. "Leave me alone, Julia... please!" she gasped, blindly pushing me away before she rose and fled, stumbling from the room. I heard the door of her bedroom click shut, but her sobs continued.

I flopped down on the couch, my heart heavy as I listened to Mom cry. I felt overcome with helplessness. There was nothing that I could say or do to convince her how damn unreasonable she was being.

Or was there?

Staring up at the ceiling from where I lay, I thought things through.

Mom felt guilty because she believed she was responsible for Dad's death. Well, when I was young and knew, deep down inside, that I'd done wrong, I always felt better in the end if I was caught and punished by my father, even if it hurt. Dad was fair but pretty strict, and whenever I really got out of line, he'd spank me -- right on my bare bottom if the offense was serious enough.

For the first time, I wondered: did he ever deal with my mother in the same way?

Maybe that was what she needed -- someone to punish her! At the very least, it ought to purge this emotionally crippling need that Mom had to torment herself.

I wasn't at all sure about this, but I was desperate and had no other ideas. One big question remained, though: who could administer that kind of treatment to Mom? I racked my brain for awhile but came up empty.

Suddenly, the answer was in my grasp. I would have to punish her myself. After all, I did have lots of experience, even if it was all on the receiving end.

Once I'd made this decision, I felt a little nervous and very excited. I was also shocked to realize something else quite unexpected -- thinking about spanking my mother was turning me on!

I know that some people get off by being spanked, but I was never one of them -- having Dad punish my bare bottom was painful and humiliating, and he knew it. That's why he only used his hand on me when I messed up big time, which wasn't often.

On the other hand, I'd fantasized more than once about giving a spanking, usually to one of the cute girls I knew -- which in my imagination, always led to hot lesbian sex. It was a masturbation scenario that never failed to get me off.

Of course, doing something like that to Mom had never even occurred to me, but once the idea took root, I was enthralled by it. What would it be like to have her lying over my legs, I wondered, her bare ass beneath my hand? That image gave me a warm, tingly feeling between my legs, and I could feel myself getting wet.

I'd been aware of my bisexuality for about a year at that point, after a night of passionate lovemaking with my best friend Beth. That was our only time together, but it was enough to hook me. In fact, I pretty much knew that girls got me way more excited than boys.

Honestly, I wasn't even sure if I could be sexually attracted to my own mother -- but the thought of spanking her had me hotter than a pistol!

I knew from personal experience that it was impossible to avoid exposing everything you had to the person punishing your ass, so if I went through with this crazy scheme, I'd be getting a very good look at Mom's pussy! My mother was not one for casual nudity, and hadn't shown herself in anything more revealing than a nightie or a one-piece bathing suit since I was a little girl. I'd seen enough to know that she still had a great body, though.

So if I got Mom undressed and spanked her, what else might happen between us?

As if it were operating independently of me, my hand slipped under the waistband of the sweats I wore and into my panties, fingers teasing my wet pussy as I fantasized about Mom, allowing my imagination to wander to some very forbidden places. God, my heart was pounding like a jackhammer! I quickly found my clit and within minutes panted through a mind-blowing orgasm.

After I recovered, lying back and idly licking my fingers, all I could think of was just how much I wanted to make this spanking idea happen. I decided to make my move on the following night.

The next afternoon, after arriving home from school, I spent a long while getting myself ready. I took a long hot soak in the bath, then shaved my legs and underarms. Then, after a moment's hesitation, I trimmed my pubes into a neat triangle, telling myself that I was only doing this because I needed to, not because Mom might see me naked later on.

I carefully selected my clothes for the evening, wanting to look my very best without being obvious about it. I chose a pair of tight blue shorts that showcased my ass to great effect, and a skimpy yellow top, which I wore without a bra.

When Mom got home from work, she changed into khaki shorts and an old t-shirt, then came and plopped down on the sofa beside me, where I was sitting, pretending to casually watch the news.

I glanced at her, feeling a twinge of sorrow at the emptiness I read in her eyes. Then I swallowed hard, summoning up my courage as best I could. Well, here goes nothing, I thought as I turned to her.

"Mom, I was thinking about Dad, remembering how strict he could be sometimes. And I sort of, well, have a question about that. Did he ever... punish you?" I asked.

My mother's face had gone slightly pale. She gazed at me for a long moment. Then, looking away, she quietly replied, "Yes. He used to spank me whenever he decided that I'd crossed the line."

Emboldened by that knowledge, I continued. "Did he do that to you on the day he died?"

"No," she replied. "He told me that I was lucky he was running late, or he would have turned me over his knee and spanked me like a bad little girl." She sniffled, on the verge of tears. "He... he promised to do it when he g-got back..."

"Well, maybe if he had, you wouldn't feel so guilty about what happened," I said, cutting her off before she began to cry again. Then, taking a deep breath, I plowed ahead. "Anyway, since he didn't spank you then, I feel it's my duty to do it now."

There, I'd said it. My mother just sat there staring at me -- her mouth slightly open, as if she hadn't heard correctly.

I continued. "Even though Dad's death wasn't really your fault, you feel guilty... and the only way you can be free of that guilt is to be punished. And since I'm the one person who loves you more than anyone else in this world, I feel like it's my responsibility."

I watched Mom closely as I spoke. Slowly, I could see comprehension dawning in her eyes.

"Mom, I want you to stand up and take off your shorts," I said, holding my breath, not at all sure how she would react.

She just stared at me. Her lips moved to speak, but nothing came out. Finally after a few deep breaths she managed to stammer, "Julia... I d-don't know about this..."

Determined to hold firm, I cut her off. "Mom, you remember what Dad always used to say before he spanked me?" Before she could answer, I did. "He'd say, 'If I didn't love you so much, I wouldn't be doing this.' Dad meant that, too... that's why I couldn't ever stay mad at him for long, no matter how much my butt hurt when he was finished."

"I remember," she whispered. "He -- Bill used to say that to me, too."

"Well, Mom," I continued, reaching out to take her hand, "I love you just as much as Dad did."

She nodded slowly and, without another word, rose and stood before me. I was nervous and very excited, feeling a growing warmth between my legs as Mom unzipped her shorts. She wriggled her hips as she pulled them down to the floor, then stepped out.

"Now the panties," I said.

She hesitated, then moved to obey. I had a difficult time keeping myself cool and collected as she stuck her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down and off.

Now my mother stood before me naked from the waist down, a soft patch of red hair adorning her vulva.

As I looked up at Mom, I was thrilled to see her nipples straining against the t-shirt she wore. Did it turn her on, stripping for me like this? Or could she actually be turned on by the thought of getting spanked? Guess I'll know soon enough, I decided.

I gently took Mom's arm, guiding her over my knees until she was stretched across my lap. Staring down as her creamy white ass, I couldn't keep myself from caressing it. A soft moan escaped her lips.

"Mom, this is for the fight you had with Dad on the day he died," I said with a trembling voice.

With that, I raised my right hand and brought it down on her ass.

SMACK. An impressive hand print appeared on her right cheek. I landed a matching swat on the left cheek, and another red patch became visible.

Suddenly, I was spanking my mother quick and hard. Ten swats on one cheek, then ten on the other. Since my mother's skin is so fair, her ass quickly turned an bright reddish hue.

I could hear Mom crying, but paid no heed, continuing to spank her. It was for her own good, after all.

Soon she was moaning and trembling in my lap, and I could tell that she was getting very aroused. Damn, I thought, I wonder if Dadever fucked Mom after a spanking?

Watching as she squirmed beneath my blows, it was easy to imagine him having his way with her when the punishment was done, whether she wanted it or not.

Finally, I stroked her glowing bottom and said, "Stand up, Mom."

Slowly, she rose from my lap and stood before me. My nipples were so hard they ached, and I had pretty much soaked the front of my panties. As I gazed up at Mom, I was thrilled to notice that the tips of her breasts were still visibly erect.

"Take off your top," I said.

Blushing, she reached up and removed her t-shirt, displaying her generous breasts. They were very fair, with firm pink nipples the size of quarters.

"Now get on your knees, Mom," I commanded. Without a word, she sank to the floor. "Spread your legs apart and place your hands behind your head." She seemed to know what was expected of her, and promptly assumed the position I wanted.

I knelt before Mom and slipped my hand between her thighs, gently stroking the wet folds of her cunt. She took a long, shaky breath, gaping at me in disbelief -- but made no move to stop me. As I continued to fondle her pussy, she began to sigh with pleasure, eyes slowly drifting shut.

Suddenly I stopped, not wanting Mom to climax before I was finished with her. When I took my hand away, she moaned in frustration. I suspected it had been a long time since she'd had an orgasm -- for all I knew, Mom hadn't pleasured herself even once since losing Dad. A flash of raw heat surged through me at the thought of being the first to make my mother come in more than a year.

I reached up to fondle her breasts, my fingers circling her hard nipples. Carefully taking each one between my thumb and forefinger, I pinched them, hard. Mom gave a gasp of pain or pleasure, I wasn't certain which -- probably both.

I slowly bent down and kissed, then licked, each swollen nipple. I felt her shiver.

The temptation was there to take her, right there and then -- but I wasn't done with Mom's punishment yet. I had to know that she was truly purged of guilt. Also, truth be told, I realized that I loved spanking her gorgeous ass.

I rose, took my place on the couch, then patted my thighs. "Time for more, Mom," I said softly.

Without a word she stood and draped herself over my lap again. I caressed her ass, then raised my hand and brought it down hard... SMACK.

I repeated the action nine more times, the sound cracking like gunfire in the living room. Mom was squirming atop me as I punished her, squeezing both thighs together. I felt a hint of her wetness on my bare legs, proof that she was getting off on this -- maybe even more than I was!

Finally, I brought my arm to rest. My hand opened like a flower upon Mom's burning cheeks, and I began to lightly, soothingly stroke her ass in an attempt to calm her down. Funny thing, though -- it seemed to have the exact opposite effect.

Slowly, I ran my fingers down the crack of my mother's ass, allowing a finger to glide over the puckered rosebud. I circled it several times and then pressed the tip inside, inserting my finger into her anus, right up to the second knuckle. She let out a loud cry and thrust back at me, which drove my finger even deeper.

Well, that was a hint I certainly couldn't resist. So I began to work my finger in and out of her rectum. Mom quickly fell into a rhythm that echoed mine, pumping her hips as I probed her.

Again, she was close to the edge when I withdrew my finger. This time, her moan carried a real sense of desperation.

"All right, Mom... get back on your knees in front of me," I commanded.

She obeyed quickly, clumsily struggling to the floor and into a kneeling position.

Slowly, as if I had all the time in the world, I stood up and removed my top; it went into the corner. My eyes met hers as I slid down my blue shorts, casting them aside with a flick of the foot. Finally, I tugged my sodden panties down to my knees, seating myself on the couch before pulling them off completely.

I noticed that she licked her lips as I draped a leg over the armrest of the couch, opening myself to her hungry gaze.

"Pleasure me, Mom," was all I said.

As if hypnotized, Mom drew closer, lowering her face between my legs. Her eyes were glazed with lust as she began to lick me, tenderly tracing the line of my slit with a warm, wet tongue. Then she placed both hands on my thighs and took me into her mouth;
drinking the sweet, thick essence of my womanhood.

I lay back, clutching my breasts, head spinning crazily from the sheer enormity of it all. My mother -- my own fucking mother! -- was going down on me.

Suddenly Mom kicked it up a notch -- entering me with her tongue and thrusting it in and out, in and out until I was panting like a dog. Then she sought out my clitoris, taking it between her lips to suckle. I braced myself for the coming explosion.

I could feel my climax building hard and fast when she penetrated me in both holes, sliding two fingers into my cunt and a thumb into my asshole. A hoarse scream ripped from my throat as I got pummeled by the most intense orgasm I'd ever experienced, smashing into me like the careless paw of a giant.

She kept it going, too -- teasing my clit with quick swipes of her tongue whenever the pleasure began to wane, her fingers twisting and twirling inside me until, on the verge of fainting, I pushed her away, gasping, "Oh, oh God -- s-s-stop, please!"

Once I'd regained the ability to breathe, I allowed my eyes to flutter open. My mother was seated on the floor, leaning back against Dad's old easy chair, her lips and chin still wet with my essence.

"C'mere, Mom," I whispered.

She climbed onto the couch with me, our bodies entwining lovingly as we came together in a kiss of unrestrained desire. We feasted on each other's mouths for a long while, sharing the taste of my cunt between us.

Hungry for more, I kissed and licked my way down Mom's body -- sucking her nipples, teasing her belly button, finally gazing lustfully at her beautiful auburn pussy, savoring its musky aroma.

I burrowed between Mom's thighs to claim her pussy with my mouth, making love to her with every ounce of passion in me.

I'd only had lesbian sex a few times, and only done oral twice, so I wasn't all that skilled at cunnilingus. But I knew what got me off, and I loved my mother more than anyone or anything. Turns out, that was enough to make her come like a wildcat.

I found Mom's asshole with my finger and slid it into her slippery rectum, all the while sucking at her clitoris. The combination was too much for her, and she exploded into a frenzied climax that had her bucking so wildly, I thought she was going to throw us both off the couch! Finally, she lay quietly, a dreamy expression on her face.

I lifted my head from her glistening sex and, suddenly in need of a hug, crawled into my mother's waiting arms.

"Thank you, Julia," she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes -- and a smile on her lips. It seemed as if I'd been waiting for an eternity to see that smile again.

We lay together for a long while, holding one another and sharing kisses. When we finally did get up, it was only to wander, hand in hand and still naked, into Mom's bedroom. There, we made love all over again, then fell asleep in each other's arms.

After that night, things were different. Mom was herself again. Oh, she still missed Dad, as did I... but she'd finally come to grips with her feelings of guilt and learned to forgive herself. And in the process Mom and I discovered an enormous passion for one another -- a hunger so powerful that it had to have been there all along, only we never knew it.

We've been fucking regularly ever since, and though we do occasionally date others, the sex Mom and I share defines our lives. We intend to remain lovers, come what may.

Sometimes when we're undressing, Mom will slip off her panties, present her ass to me and murmur, "I've been a bad girl, Julia." Then I'll lay her down on my lap and give her what she wants, spanking that pale, creamy bottom until both cheeks are an angry pink. And when my hand wanders between Mom's legs, I know what I'll find there -- the hottest, wettest cunt imaginable.